Inspirational Medicine
by AgentT
Summary: People are dying and it's up to Sara and Jake to find out the truth behind a shroud of conspiracy
1. Inspirational Medicine

  
  
"Susie, this is Dr. Jordan."   
  
A young blonde girl looked up. Her blue eyes gazed questioningly at the smiling man.   
  
"Hi." She whispered.   
  
"We're going to take good care of you, Susie." He said, nodding. He looked at the nurse. "Room 152."   
  
The nurse nodded and gripped the wheelchair. She pushed Susie towards the elevator as Dr. Jordan picked up a chart.   
  
***   
  
"Susie Blair, 16 years old. Her parents are divorced. Her mother lives in Los Angeles, her father lives in Florida. She has a history of prescription drug abuse prescribed by her doctor after a 1998 accident. She attended Broadview Lake High School until five months ago when she was found in her apartment, overdosed on her prescription."   
  
Dr. Jordan looked up from his chart. He looked at the surrounding people.   
  
A woman nodded. She was the first to speak.   
  
"She sounds like a wonderful candidate."   
  
"Should we begin preliminary testing?" Another man asked.   
  
Jordan shook his head. "We don't have enough for the tests yet. Let's see if a few more eligible candidates come in."   
  
***   
  
2 months later  
  
"I'm just trying to find my daughter!"   
  
"Ma'am, please calm down."   
  
Sara Pezzini scrunched her shoulders and made her way past Detective Lake, who was trying to desperately calm down the hysterical woman. She walked into the office she shared with Jake McCartey.   
  
"Hey, Pez." He said, and handed her a cup of coffee. She nodded in thanks and sipped it.   
  
"Who's that outside?" She asked.   
  
"Not sure. But from what I've heard, it's a missing persons case." He looked out through the window and watched as a few officers led the woman into a small interrogation room.   
  
"Well what do we have so far?" Sara asked, opening the file.   
  
"Neighbors found him this morning at 7:15, lying in his apartment of multiple gun shot wounds." Jake said. "Luke Tyson, 35 years old, a lawyer. Previous history of small time drug use, wealthy family. Father was an engineer for NASA and mother was a stay at home mom. Father died in 1998 of a heart attack." He snapped the file shut. "So?"   
  
"All right." Sara said, nodding. "Let's go."   
  
***   
  
Forensics moved out of the way as the two detectives walked through the narrow hall to the crime scene. There were flashbulbs going off and various police officers moving about as Jake pulled back the black tarp that covered the body that lied on the gurney.   
  
"What do you think happened?" He asked, looking around the small apartment. Everything was neatly arranged, like nothing had occurred.   
  
Sara sighed and closed her eyes. She shook her head. "I have no idea."   
  
Two officers started to roll the gurney out the door.   
  
"Wait." She said, and the officers stopped. She went to the body and pulled back the tarp further, exposing the corpse's right arm.   
  
"What?" Jake asked.   
  
Pez closed her eyes and shook her head. She pulled the tarp over the bodies and waved the officers through. "Nothing, I thought that there was something..."   
  
"Well this guy's mother lives in a retirement home right here in New York. We could check it out."   
  
Sara nodded and glanced at the Witchblade. It was glowing slightly, it's red color bouncing off the sunlight.   
  
"Pez?" Jake asked. "Hello? Pez?"   
  
"What?" She snapped out of her daze. "What?"   
  
"You all right?" Jake asked. putting a hand on her arm. She nodded quickly.   
  
"Yeah, I'm fine." She said. "Let's go talk to the mother."   
  
Blue Glen Assisted Living   
  
"This place reminds me of a museum." Jake commented as they walked in. the smooth whoosh of the sliding doors greeted them and they stepped into a warm and clean environment.   
  
"It's supposed to be one of the best retirement homes in the country." Sara said. "Obviously only the wealthy live here." She spotted an elderly man walking around with his cane, accompanied by a nurse who rolled his IV along.   
  
Jake and Sara approached the front desk.   
  
"Hello, I'm Sara Pezzini and this is my partner Jake McCartey, we're from the NYPD--"   
  
"Yes." The nurse said.   
  
Sara was taken aback. "Excuse me?"   
  
"Dr. Francis is expecting you. Down the hall to the left." The nurse directed and smiled. The phone rang and she quickly picked it up, leaving Jake and Sara to find their way.   
  
"How'd he know we were coming?" Jake asked.   
  
Sara shrugged. "Media probably. Saw it on the news."   
  
They went through another set of sliding doors and sure enough, on the left there was a door with a gold name plate on it. It neatly said "Dr. Jonathan Francis" on it.  
  
Sara looked at Jake and he shrugged. She looked back at the door and raised a fist to knock.   
  
"Yes, come in." A voice said from inside. Sara pushed the door open and she and Jake stepped inside.   
  
The office was clean and sterile, like the rest of the facility. Books and medical journals adorned shelves on the walls and plaques and awards hung in a row above them.   
  
Dr. Francis himself was a stark contrast to his clean office. He himself was worn and wearied. His hands busily went over papers and one hand clutched a pen tightly, as if it he would die if the pen was let go. He wore a dark suit and his eyes were bright behind a pair of small wire-frame glasses.   
  
"Doctor Francis?" Sara asked.   
  
The man looked up and looked at the two new visitors as if he was wondering why they were there. "Ah, yes. You're the two detectives."   
  
"Yes, how did you know we were coming?" Jake asked.   
  
Francis grinned and tapped the television set resting on a small desk set up by the opposite wall. It was barely visible beneath the mound of papers that were on top of it, threatening to topple at the smallest tremble.   
  
"it's all over the news. And I figured that you'd want to talk to Mrs. Tyson."   
  
Sara nodded slowly. "Right. And uh-"   
  
"Room 301, it's on the third floor. I'll show you the way." He said, moving past them to open the door.   
  
"Did you know her son?" Jake asked as they walked the halls to the elevators.   
  
Dr. Francis shook his head. "No, not at all. I met him once, but it was-it was not a good time for his mother."   
  
"How so?" Sara asked.   
  
"Well, uh, I don't know if you know this, but Margo Tyson and her son were in a very bad accident a few years ago. I think in 1995 or so. Anyway, she was left with partial paralysis from the hip down. He was supposedly drunk or on drugs at the time. It's all muddled, I never got the full truth. The poor woman thinks her son was trying to avoid hitting a deer. The police never found any deer or animal remains."   
  
"What happened to him after?" Sara asked. They boarded an elevator and Dr. Francis pressed a button. The elevator hummed as they rose.   
  
"Well, that's the muddled part. He never went to jail or anything…as far as I know, he wasn't badly injured. Few scrapes and scratches. But his father was influential I guess, because I never heard about her son."   
  
They entered a hallway that resembled the first floor. Nurses walked about carrying trays and equipment, some walking the elderly.   
  
"Here she is." Dr. Francis said. He knocked softly on the door. "Margo?"   
  
There was a muffled voice on the other end. He pushed the door open and the soft smell of vanilla permeated their senses.   
  
A woman in her mid 60's looked at them from her bed. Her face broke out in a smile.   
  
"Jonathan!" She said. "How lovely to see you."   
  
Her blue eyes looked at Sara and Jake. "And you brought visitors."  
  
"Yes. Margo, this is Detective Pezzini and Detective McCartey. They're from the police, they'd like to talk to you about Luke." He sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand.   
  
The woman's smile quickly shattered and was overcast. Tears started to roll down her cheeks.   
  
Sara quickly plucked a tissue from a nearby tray and handed it to the woman. The overflowing trash bin was an indication that it she must have used up a box or two already.   
  
She took the tissue and cried a thanks. Between sobs she managed to look at the two detectives.   
  
Jake looked down at his shoe.   
  
Fighting to regain composure, Tyson dabbed her eyes and she looked back up at them.   
  
"Whatever you want to ask, I'll answer." She managed to say.   
  
Sara nodded. "Thank you."   
  
***   
  
"…he was a wonderful boy." She said, smiling in admiration. She choked up a laugh. "I guess Dr. Francis has already told you that I thought Luke had hit a deer in our accident."   
  
Jake and Sara exchanged glances.   
  
"The truth is, he was on drugs. Heroin. I couldn't believe it until he was driving me home that day." She shook her head. "Damn, if I had only said something earlier…" She shook her head. "I know he didn't overdose this time. I know it. It was a long time ago. He was younger then, he shaped up in the last few years. After the accident, he went into rehab and we were so proud when he wanted to go back to law school…."   
  
Jake nodded. "Mrs. Tyson, we were wondering if your son would've made any enemies when he was in his drug habit."   
  
She shook her head. "He never talked about it with me. Whatever he did, he kept to himself and it was only after the accident that I actually realized how serious it was. Do you think it was someone he knew?"   
  
Sara shook her head. "We're not sure yet." She stood up and checked her watch. "Well, we should be going. Let you get rest."   
  
Margo smiled. "I've been here for two years, I've had nothing but rest." She nodded. "Thank you for coming by."   
  
Jake nodded a thank you and they exited the room.   
  
As they passed the secretary again and she absently acknowledged their presence, Sara turned to Jake.   
  
"What do you think?" She asked.   
  
"Son had a drug habit. Might've been someone from his past." Jake said. "As far as we know, he hasn't been using lately."   
  
"Let's check with Vick and see what she's got." Sara said, getting into the car.   



	2. Inspirational Medicine

"Hey Vick!" Jake said as he pushed the double doors open. Sara had departed, saying something about a personal call. He shrugged and moved on to see what the medical examiner had to offer.   
  
He entered and there was no one there. The desk lamp was on, as usual, probably overheating. He saw a clean lab and no Vick.   
  
"Vick?" He shouted again. "Vicky?"   
  
No answer.   
  
He walked through the lab, looking around, making sure she wasn't in the inner reaches of the facility.   
  
When he got back to her desk, he shook his head. His blue eyes swept her desk, looking for a note of any kind. Nothing.   
  
He turned to leave and ran straight into-  
  
"Jake!"   
  
"Vick, where've you been?" he asked.   
  
She rolled her eyes. "What, concerned?" She asked.   
  
"Well you're usually down here…" He said as she sat down at her desk with a bag. He could smell the Chinese food. And he could see the sauce leaking through the bottom of the bag.   
  
"Damn!" She said as she lifted the bag. A splotch of reddish brown covered a sheet of paper.   
  
Jake sampled the sauce on the paper. "Sweet and sour?"   
  
Vick nodded. "The delivery guy was new, didn't want to come down. I had to go all the way over there."   
  
"Well, uh you have anything about that new gun shot wound?" He asked as she tore into her food.   
  
Chewing, she nodded. Jake looked at her expectantly as she swallowed.   
  
"yeah, I do. Uh the gunshot wounds were pretty normal, nothing new there. He wasn't on drugs, at least none when he died."   
  
"So he didn't overdose." Jake said. He nodded. "Anything else?"  
  
"Not really. I mean as bodies go, he's pretty standard. There was a tattoo though, but it wasn't really anything medical." She frowned. "It was actually really weird."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"Well look at this." She said, getting up. She licked the sauce off her finger and wiped it on a napkin. She plucked a pair of latex gloves from a nearby box and pulled the metal handle of the freezers. It opened with an echoing clank and she pulled out the gurney with both hands. The autopsied corpse lay, still as a rock.   
  
Vick turned the body enough for Jake to see the tattoo. It was a simple string of numbers, in a dark bluish black color. It was small, almost as if it was trying to hide.   
  
"Doesn't look like any tattoo i've ever seen." He said, shaking his head. "You think he forgot his ATM number or something?"   
  
"I have no clue." She said, stifling a yawn.   
  
Jake took a sheet of paper from Vick's desk and jotted down the string of numbers.   
  
"Thanks, Vick." He said, smiling. She managed a grin and waved as he walked out through the doors.   
  
***  
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"Hey, Pez, I was just at Vicks. She said the body was pretty regular. Did the file say that Luke Tyson had a tattoo?" He asked.   
  
"I don't know." Pez said. "What did you find?"   
  
"Well Tyson had this string of numbers on his back. It was weird. I copied it down, but I don't recognize any of it."   
  
"That's it? His tattoo was numbers on his back?" Pez asked. "yeah, that's pretty weird. I'll meet you back at the station."   
  
"Right." Jake said and hung up.   
  
***  
  
"And what does your partner think?" Irons said, turning in his chair.   
  
"He doesn't know." She said quietly.  
  
"Ahh, the muffled exchange between partners. Wouldn't want to hear me in the background, would we?" He smiled that eerie smile that Sara couldn't stand.   
  
"You know, Sara, the Witchblade glows for a reason. It's not me calling you , but it is rather the Witchblade itself. It needs to get your attention for one reason or another. The rightful wearer of the blade is at an advantage. The Witchblade will take care of you, it will warn you. And it acts according to you and your life. It does that for a reason, to take care of it's user."   
  
"Yeah, i got that already." Sara said. "Anything else?"   
  
Irons momentarily paused to think. He looked back up. "No, not really."   
  
Without further word or glance, Sara turned and walked out of his office.   
  
***   
  
"Soon she will find out." Ian said, walking out of the shadows.   
  
"In time, she'll be ready. She won't find out what she won't believe." Irons said, looking at his second in command.   
  
"If she gets too close..." Ian started.   
  
"--Then let her get too close. Her own persistance will get her there, but her own hesitation will bring her back."   
  
Ian nodded.   
  
***   
  
"Hey, Jake, got anything?" Sara said, walking into the office. She was still catching her breath.   
  
Jake shook his head. "Nothing. This is what i copied off Tyson's back." He handed Sara a slip of paper with a string of 8 digits on it.   
  
She frowned.   
  
"You recognize it?" Jake asked, puzzled.   
  
"No, i don't. No luck chasing it down?" She asked.   
  
"Not even close. As far as i know, it has absolutely no significance. I searched everything, drivers license, social security, I even checked former employers. Nothing." He shook his head and threw the pen he was holding down onto the desk. It clattered against the stapler and landed in between the pencil holder and the phone. "I started checking tattoo parlors a few minutes ago, seeing if anyone might remember why he wanted 8 numbers inked on his back."  
  
"Good thinking. Was there any previous record of tattoos?" Sara asked.   
  
Jake frowned and leaned forward. He picked up the file and flipped through it, searching with his eyes. He looked at Sara.   
  
He shook his head. "None."   
  
"When was that record made?" She asked.   
  
"When he went back to school, in 1997 after the accident."   
  
Sara nodded slowly. "So he got a tattoo after the accident, when he went back to school."   
  
"But wasn't the accident in 95?" Jake asked, trying to locate the right information in his file.   
  
Sara shifted in her seat. "So where was he after 1995 to 1997?" She asked, pondering the question herself.   
  
"His mother, didn't she mention that he went to rehab?" He asked, pointing a finger down at the file. "I have absolutely no record of him from after the accident, when he was discharged from the hospital for minor injuries in December, until 1997, when he was accepted back into NYU."   
  
"So he was gone for an entire year. Rehab?" She asked.   
  
"Let's start calling." Jake said. He shrugged and he and Sara started to dial.   
  
***   
  
Jake slept peacefully on his couch as the laptop in front of him glowed; it's screen saver clicking on after he had fallen asleep.   
  
Suddenly a screen popped up.   
  
You have mail, it said. An accompanying beep shook Jake out of his rest.   
  
He squinted at the spiraling neon colored balls in his screen saver and pressed a key. The computer metamorphosed back into it's original screen and he sat up as he checked his new email message.   
  
To: McCartey@ xxxx.com   
From: Archangel@ xxxx.com   
Received: 07.01.01 3:12 am  
  
I know what you're looking for. The numbers. Check River Springs Rehabilitation Center, you'll find it there. The numbers are something they use, but you will never be able to ask them about it. They will deny everything you say and they will take the evidence out. Get the evidence before you go. Find the information on your own before you talk to them.   
  
As tired as he was, Jake's mind was already working at full speed, calculating and working out details.   
  
Finally, he shook his head and fell back onto the couch, fast asleep, leaving the open email to sit idle.   
  
A few minutes later, his screen saver returned.   
  
***   
  
"I got an email last night." Jake said, sitting down at his desk. Across from him, Sara was already digging into the work of finding Tyson's tattoo.   
  
"From who?" She asked.   
  
"I got home and I started to post messages at different message boards, asking if anyone knew anything about numbers. I got to this board for former rehab patients, a support group. And I posted, asking if anyone knew anything about an 8 digit string of numbers, and I got this email from someone who told me to check River Springs Rehabilitation Center."   
  
"So?" Sara asked.   
  
"So I did. And I didn't find anything special, it's not like they advertise right on the front about their great deal for treatment and an 8 digit code, but I did find something very interesting."   
  
He handed her a computer printout.   
  
"What do you know? Our friend, Dr. Francis is a consultant." She said.   
  
"Exactly. And I did some more digging with the help of my friendly NYPD jurisdiction, and there were two Luke Tysons admitted into River Springs in the past 10 years. But only one of them was admitted during 1996. In February of 1996, Luke Tyler Tyson was admitted into River Springs."   
  
Sara smiled. "The same Luke Tyler Tyson that is now a corpse down in Vick's office."   
  
"Right."   
  
"At least we know where he was." She said.   
  
"So I called them back and arranged for us to go down there."   
  
"Great. And where's our pal Dr. Francis at this time?" She asked.   
  
"We got lucky. Today is one of the days he consults down there." Jake grinned and picked up his jacket.   
  
  



	3. Inspirational Medicine

Part 3   
  
The room is white, clean, and glistening with brightness. The pride of ownership goes overboard as scientists work in their clean, white, glistening lab coats, figuring out the complexity of a new disease, or finding new ways to combat an old one. There are two types of people here, the ones that think they are making honest work, changing the world bit by bit, doing their small part of a bigger whole. And then there are those who think they'll be the ones to revolutionize, beat everything else out of the water with their one big discovery. It was these people who felt like they could control it all.   
  
And it was those who gave everything required to achieve their dream.   
  
Carrie walked across the white room, carrying a vial of brownish-yellow liquid. The plastic coverings tied to her shoes crushed against the tile floor as she set the vial down on a tray. Taking out a needle, she drew some of the liquid from the vial and placed it on another tray. Carrie then took the small bottle to a cabinet and unlocked it. The bottles in the cabinet rattled as she pulled out the tray that rolled out on wheels and cleared a space for the container.   
  
"Is the formula ready?" A nurse asked, peeking her head in. She too was wearing the aforementioned shoe covers. She was also wearing a surgeon's mask.   
  
Carrie nodded and gestured toward the syringe lying on the tray. The nurse nodded and took the needle.   
  
Turning back around, she quickly darted her eyes around the room. No one. She then reached a hand into the cabinet and pulled the entire tray out, trying not to rattle the bottles too much. She selected a green fluid and slipped it into her jacket pocket. Taking another one from her other pocket, she quickly examined it a last time and put it in the first bottle's place.   
  
She pushed the tray back into it's position and locked the door.   
  
"Dr. Redmond?" A voice called from behind.   
  
Trying not to look suspicious, she slowly turned around.   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"Are you Dr. Redmond?" A petite blonde-haired young woman asked.   
  
"Yes, I am." She said. "What can I do for you?"   
  
The young woman looked slightly confused. "I'm the medical student, from-"   
  
"NYU." Carrie finished. She sighed in relief. "Of course. Sorry, it's been a hectic day."   
  
"I'm sure." She said, smiling. "I'm Jane Limbers."  
  
"Carrie Redmond." She said. "You already knew that, of course." They laughed. "Uh, you're a third year student aren't you?"   
  
"Yes, I am."   
  
They started to walk out of the lab.   
  
"What made you decide to sign up for this program? You could've chosen City General, they're a great teaching school."   
  
Carrie brushed a lock of hair back.   
  
"I know, but I was looking more into chemistry and virology. And then I got sidetracked into psychology and when you mix it, you get drug rehabilitation. Or at least, I had an interest in it. My sister is a nurse and my mom is a doctor also so it runs in the family."   
  
Jane smiled, and one hand toyed with the sleeve of the crisp new lab coat she was given.   
  
'Well you'll do just fine." Redmond said. "Have you had a tour yet?"   
  
Jane shook her head. "It took me a while just to figure out how to get here." She said, grinning. "This place is like a maze."   
  
"Yeah, it is. We'll take the elevator up to the lobby and start from there." Carrie said. Her beeper went off. She checked it really quick and frowned. Stopping in front of the elevator door, she picked up a phone mounted on the wall and punched in a number.   
  
"Yes, did someone call for me?" She asked.   
  
A few muffled replies on the other end.   
  
"All right, thank you."   
  
She hung up and smiled at Jane before proceeding to the elevator.   
  
"One thing you should know is that there's phones in every hall, residential or not. If you don't already have a pager, the front desk hands them out. You're on a private line; so start memorizing the number of the doctors' pager numbers. And there's one code for the front desk."   
  
The elevator hummed as they were transported.   
  
"I thought students didn't get pagers." She said.   
  
"Well we let our students interact more here. The standard things like IVs and history are already transported from a previous doctor or hospital. Since we deal in drug rehabilitation, students can do more research and get a more hands-on experience."   
  
They reached the first floor and the doors opened. The flow of nurses, patients, and doctors was fully revealed.   
  
"The first floor is administration and offices. If you need to talk to a doctor, and you can't find them on duty, they're probably in their office. The doors to the left lead to the doctor offices. Come on." Carrie turned to the right and slid her access card into a slot on the left.   
  
"Every research area requires a key card. We have ones that work on each floor, but students are only allowed ones that work on the individual department they're working on. This is the toxicology department. Our head toxicologist is Dr. Irvin. He's a grumpy old man, but he's a great doctor. Lots of experience. The nurse on call is generally Mary, but on Wednesdays and Fridays, Lee is working."   
  
Carrie pushed the door open and they entered a spacious lab equipped with different pieces of equipment. A brain suspended in formaldehyde sat on the counter, it's pinkish flesh surrounded by yellow.   
  
"Dr. Irvin? Mary?" A middle aged curly haired woman entered from an entrance to an adjoining lab.   
  
"What?"   
  
"There you are." Carrie said.   
  
"I was in the other lab organizing the samples. Dr. Irvin went out for lunch."   
  
Carrie frowned, remembering that she still saw his car outside. But she shrugged it off.   
  
"This is Jane Limbers, the new student."   
  
Mary broke out into a wide smile. "Welcome to River Springs." She said.   
  
"Thanks." Jane said, smiling back.   
  
As they left the first lab, they entered the second one, where Mary resumed her work.   
  
"This is our second lab, there's a lot of other equipment here. That metal slot back there is a pulley system that we had since 1952. It's just an easier way to transport medicine from floor to floor. But we only use that occasionally."   
  
Jane nodded and her eyes diverted from the pulley to a door to her right. It was protected by the key card slot also.   
  
"What's in here?" She asked. There was no window and there was no indication of what it led to. It was just a door.   
  
"Oh that, that's a control center for the environmentals, sprinklers, you know. We keep most of the doors here protected in case there's any patients that pass through. Our residential halls are on the first floor only. Our teen center is located in the West Wing, and the adults generally come together in the South Wing. Elevator access is denied beyond those points. You again, need special codes to be able to get to the lab floors."   
  
Jane nodded, making mental notes as fast as she could. "Then how come there's a toxic lab here?"   
  
"We built it here for convenience. We decided that if the patients were only allowed to be on the first floor, then it would be a hassle transporting them up to the upper levels. If they require further testing, which is rare, then we can take them up. We use the toxicology lab mostly to check up on the patients."   
  
"So the patients here are strictly residential?" Jane asked, looking at Dr. Redmond.   
  
"Most of them are. It looks like an office more like a lab, doesn't it? It's designed to resemble the comfort of home. Our main labs are further up and those are entirely sterile with hygienic rooms and everything." She laughed. "Here, we can be as messy as we want."   
  
"So am I working with patients or research?" Jane questioned.   
  
"Well that depends." Carrie said. "Which one would you like?"   
  
***   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
